


Silver and Peppermint

by FalseRoar



Series: Traces of Silver [1]
Category: Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Monster Hunters, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Blood and Violence, Gen, Murder Mystery, Other, POV Third Person, Poison, Pre-Who Killed Markiplier?, Ship Teasing, Who Killed Markiplier?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23729464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalseRoar/pseuds/FalseRoar
Summary: In this pre-WKM AU, Abe is a monster hunter, employed by the city when several deaths happen all in a row, seemingly unconnected except that the murderer clearly wasn't human. Together with his reluctant partner the District Attorney, they need to find the monster responsible before it claims another victim.This was originally posted on Tumblr several months ago, and a prequel along with a WKM sequel are coming next.As tagged, this story deals with murder and crime scenes. Nothing graphic and no gore, but do expect mentions of death, blood, and violence throughout the story. There's also some light shipteasing between Abe and the District Attorney, most of it in his own head. Uses they/them pronouns for Y/N/the District Attorney.
Relationships: Abe | The Detective & Y/N | The District Attorney (Who Killed Markiplier?), Abe | The Detective/Y/N | The District Attorney (Who Killed Markiplier?), Damien | The Mayor & Y/N | The District Attorney (Who Killed Markiplier?)
Series: Traces of Silver [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709179
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

“A monster hunter? Really, Damien?”

Abe paused outside of the Mayor’s office with one hand outstretched to knock and glanced behind him, but the receptionist was already almost back to her desk after showing him where to go. He should knock and let them know he was out here, but as a professional he knew the importance of getting the lay of the land before jumping straight into a new case.

Plus, he was nosy.

“I had to do something,” came the rich voice that Abe recognized as belonging to the mayor, the same voice he heard over the phone just yesterday. “The police are stumped and the press is having a field day. The last thing we want is a mob with pitchforks and torches looking for someone to blame.”

“I have leads, the police are just too scared to move. They’re not used to handling this kind of thing, not with the risk it involves.”

“Which is why I called in a professional.”

It was as good an introduction as he could hope for, so Abe knocked on the office door and walked in at the mayor’s invitation.

“Ah, you must be Abe Lincoln,” the man said as he rose from behind his desk and leaned over to shake Abe’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about your previous work.”

“And I’ve heard a lot about your current problem, Mr. Mayor,” Abe said, narrowing his eyes as he sized the man up. Well-dressed, slicked black hair, and a genuine smile that looked out of place on a politician. And a cane beside his desk, black with a silver top. Did he need assistance getting around? “You made the right call, bringing me in before this got any worse.”

“Please, call me Damien.” The mayor paused, his eyes flickering toward the other person in the room as though in response to a sound they made, and said, “And this is the District Attorney, Y/N. They will be working with you to find the culprit behind these vicious attacks.”

“What?” Their disbelief at those words almost matched Abe’s own. “Damien, please. Now isn’t the time for jokes.”

“I wasn’t joking, my friend,” Damien said as he sank back into his chair. “Abe is highly qualified and comes with the best of recommendations, but he doesn’t know this city like you do, and at this point you know the case better than anyone. It only makes sense that you would serve as the city’s liaison during this investigation.”

Abe cleared his throat and said, “I think some of those recommendations might have mentioned that I don’t have the greatest track record when it comes to partners.”

He tried hard not to look at the District Attorney, but he had noticed the way they looked him up and down when he walked in, the distaste in their eyes as if even his very presence bothered them on a deeply personal level. They couldn’t have been any more the kind of partner he would have chosen for himself if given the chance.

“While you do have a…worrying tendency to lose partners, I believe Y/N can handle it. There isn’t anyone in this city that I would trust more,” Damien said, smiling at the District Attorney who appeared to bite back a word at that even as they began to crack.

“…What do you know of the situation?” they asked, turning to face Abe.

“Three victims already, all attacked at night as if by a wild animal. Except wild animals don’t walk into a person’s home and lock the door behind them when they’re done,” Abe answered. “Nothing I haven’t seen before, of course.”

“It’s four now,” the DA said with a sigh. “That’s why I stopped by here. They found another one in the park this morning, less than an hour ago.”

“Sounds like the scene should still be fresh then,” Abe said, and realized he may have sounded a little too enthusiastic judging by the Mayor and his DA’s reactions. “The faster we get there, the faster we can catch the beast responsible. Think you can handle it, Partner?”

“I am not your partner,” the District Attorney said, flashing the Mayor a look when he made a sound at that.

“You two will be reporting directly to me,” Damien said. “I want you to keep me updated on everything, and I’ve already received assurance from the Chief of Police that he will provide all the manpower you need once you find the person or creature responsible. I’m counting on you.”

He had heard that tune plenty of times before. No one called him in unless the situation was truly desperate, because everyone thought they could handle it on their own until people started getting angry and looking for someone to blame. That Mayoral seat was probably starting to look unsteady if they’d already lost four people in less than a month.

But the District Attorney looked deadly serious as they nodded to the Mayor and led the way out, leaving Abe to follow in their quick, brisk steps out of the building and down the marble steps to the street below.

“How long have you known our dear Mayor?” Abe asked once he caught up and fell into step alongside them.

“…Since university,” they answered. “He is one of the few friends I have from back then.”

Probably one of the few friends they had in general, Abe thought to himself. As if sensing his thought, they gave him a frown and asked, “And how long have you been roaming around playing monster hunter?”

“Playing? This isn’t some kind of game, I save people’s lives,” Abe said. “I’ve slain vampires and werewolves, caught witches and rooted out a ghoul running a pie shop. Vicious monsters, every last one of them.”

The District Attorney stiffened and he could feel the anger rolling off of them as they crossed the street and led the way to the trees in the distance that marked the park in the center of the city. They took so long responding that he had almost give up on getting another word out of them.

“A pie shop?”

“Yeah, that one was…” He winced, putting a hand to his mouth. “Still can’t look at meat-based pies the same way. Lost a good partner in there too. Blueberry pie to the face.”

The District Attorney did a double take at that one but failed to ask any follow up questions before they arrived at the police tape blocking off the entrance to the park. There an officer recognized the District Attorney and led them both farther into the cover of the trees, off the path to where a sheet covered the body.

“We’ve already been over everything,” he said. “A pair of joggers noticed the new marks on the trees and the crows hanging around this area so they came over to investigate. Victim is a male, maybe in his thirties, same injuries as the others. We’re still looking to identify him, so we don’t know if there’s any connection yet.”

“Out in the open this time,” the District Attorney said as they strayed around the area. Abe noticed that they kept their distance from the corpse, their eyes instead focused on the claw marks on the trees, in the soft ground that wasn’t soaked in blood.

“Nowhere’s safe,” the officer muttered.

“What was that?” Abe asked.

“Nothing. Look, I should get back to guarding the perimeter. You two can find me if you have any more questions, okay?”

And with that he was gone, leaving Abe with the District Attorney and the body. Without waiting for an invitation, Abe pulled back the sheet to get a better look at what was left of the victim.

“What are you doing?” the District Attorney snapped a few seconds later.

“Getting a read on the corpse,” Abe answered without looking up. “It’s my expert opinion that he died at three-thirty last night. Strange time to be out in the park.”

“He may have been chased here,” the District Attorney said. They knelt and Abe saw they were examining something in one of the bushes.

“Nice find, Partner!” They jumped when Abe was suddenly at their side to get a better look at the clump of light hair caught in the branches of the bush. “Is this fur?”

“Don’t do that,” they protested, scrambling away as he pried off a few hairs and sniffed them. “And don’t—Did you just lick that?!”

“Wolf hair,” Abe muttered.

“How do you know that?!”

“Like I said, I’m a professional,” Abe said as he straightened up and began taking a closer look at the ground all around. “And I’ve worked with enough of these beasts to spot the signs from a mile away. Look at this, Partner.”

“Stop calling me that,” they said, but followed his stare.

And then swore softly as they knelt, one hand hovering over the massive paw print left in the soft ground for reference. Not only was the paw print nearly twice the size of their hand, the depth suggested the weight and size of the beast that left it behind.

“Werewolf,” Abe said with absolute certainty and the District Attorney’s shoulders tightened, their hand curling into a fist. “I’d know one anywhere.”

“This isn’t right,” they said softly. “Last night wasn’t a full moon, if whoever this was changed then they had to have been…They were in full control.”

“And they knew exactly what they were doing when they attacked this poor schmuck and all the others,” Abe said, privately impressed. Most people weren’t aware that werewolves had the ability to change at any time, and usually didn’t live long enough to learn from their mistake. He lost a partner once that way, and never intended to make that mistake again. “See any sign of where it went?”

They spent a few minutes trying to follow the trail in either direction, but aside from a few furrows in the ground farther into the park it was no good. Even there they could not be certain if the marks suggested the werewolf had been chasing its victim out of the park or fleeing further in. A sweep of the park proved that whoever it was, they were long gone now.

“Well, guess there’s nothing for it but to tell your mayor friend what we’re dealing with,” Abe said, brushing some dirt off of his knees after spending several minutes examining some droppings that turned out to have come from a rabbit. “Full moon’s only a few nights away. If this sicko is like this when they’re in control, I don’t want to see them the rest of the time.”

The District Attorney nodded in mute agreement, and remained silent all the way out of the park with barely an acknowledgement of the officer outside. Abe thought that was probably for the best; better to let the news come from the top than spread out from the bottom and cause a panic in the city. But he didn’t think that was the reason for the attorney’s silence, judging by their furrowed brow and shaking hands.

Just as he was about to say something that would probably make them hate him even more, the District Attorney said, “I need some coffee. Do you want anything?”

“…Sure,” Abe answered. He wasn’t about to say no to a good cup of coffee, especially if the caffeine might help calm the attorney’s nerves. Poor kid must not be used to this kind of thing here in the city, he mused as he followed them into a small shop on the corner.

One where they must be a regular customer, judging by the way the barista called, “Y/N! We were starting to wonder when we’d see you again. Your usual?”

“Please,” they said, already reaching for their wallet.

Abe ordered the darkest cup of tar he could find and winced when he smelled the cup that was placed on the counter, the scent of peppermint overpowering even from a distance.

“What the hell is that?” he asked.

“Mine,” the District Attorney said, scooping the cup up and breathing heavily from the warm fumes. Almost immediately they began to relax, or at least as much as they seemed capable of.

“You gonna drink that or just inhale it?” Abe asked as he picked up his own cup and left a tip in the jar.

“Jury’s still out,” the District Attorney replied. They held the door open for him and followed him back to the mayor’s office.

“A werewolf?” Damien asked once they had finished explaining what they found to him. Or once Abe finished; the attorney still seemed less than ready to talk about it, but Abe was familiar enough with filling the silence left by less than talkative partners. “Are you sure?”

“Not a doubt in my mind,” Abe said, noting how Damien glanced at the attorney for confirmation, who gave a single nod in response. “Look, we need to get ahead of this before it gets any worse. One survivor with a bite and we’ve got an outbreak on our hands. I suggest a curfew and a kill on sight for any wolves spotted within ten miles. Do your police have access to silver bullets?”

“Yes, because we want them using the highest-quality of bullets when they put down the neighbor’s lost dog,” the District Attorney said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Don’t you think we need to put some effort into finding the culprit instead of shooting anything in the right shape?”

“Maybe they should have put a collar on it if they cared,” Abe muttered, not wanting to admit that they had a point. Even if properly armed, the cops would be jumpy if this was really their first time dealing with a were.

“Damien!” The District Attorney’s expression said they realized how much they sounded like a kid calling for the teacher, but they continued, “Can I talk to you? Alone?”

They both glanced at Abe and he shrugged. “Sure, I’ll just wait outside like I have nothing better to do with my time.”

“And we can do without the eavesdropping this time,” the District Attorney said just before the door shut behind him, causing Abe to consider that maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t been as smooth listening in as he thought.

He sighed and grumbled to himself, making sure it was loud enough for them to hear in the office before he made his way to the foyer, where he took up a seat and focused his attention on his coffee, which was probably feeling neglected by this point.

It was a good cup of coffee. Abe made a mental note to go back to that place again just as the District Attorney walked out, their expression suggesting they lost that particular battle with the mayor.

“He’s talking to the chief of police now,” they said once they stopped in front of his chair. They crossed their arms in front of their chest and looked away as they added, “The chief will probably want to talk to you about proper procedure, which I can only think means he’s never seen you in action on a crime scene before.”

“Please, I know my way around a dead body. I’ll remind you that it wasn’t until I stepped on the scene that this investigation started going somewhere.” Abe stood and tossed his empty cup in the trash can. “I’m just saying, it didn’t take me four bodies to figure out what’s going on here.”

“This crime scene was different from the last three,” the District Attorney admitted, choosing not to rise to his bait. “The others were all inside the victims’ homes, with no sign of forced entry.”

“And werewolves aren’t exactly known for knocking on doors,” Abe said.

“But if the victims opened the door, recognized their murderer and let them in, the werewolf could have changed right there in the room, killed them, and changed back to walk out again like nothing happened.”

They looked at him and Abe quickly nodded like he hadn’t been staring, watching as their eyes narrowed and then lit up at the realization. “Yeah, yeah, makes sense. One way to find out for sure, and that’s to put heels to the pavement and go to the other crime scenes and ask some hard questions. You up for it?”

“You were right about one thing back there in Damien’s office,” they said, a fire in their eyes as they opened the door. “We need to get ahead of this before it gets any worse. After you, hunter.”


	2. Chapter 2

The first victim was a grocer, lived in one of those up and coming neighborhoods where all the houses looked roughly identical. This guy’s house was easy enough to spot thanks to the bright yellow tape blocking the door that was already starting to droop and fall away, but otherwise it looked like an exact copy of the one next to it with a slightly different coat of paint slapped on it.

“Nice place,” Abe said.

The District Attorney shrugged. “If this is your thing. The victim and his wife used to live above the grocery they own in town, but now they pay someone else to run it and the second store.”

“Sounds like business was booming,” Abe said and the District Attorney gave another noncommittal shrug.

“His wife is staying outside the city with her family,” the attorney explained as they followed him around the outside of the house, in search of anything they may have missed the first time around. “At the time of the murder she was at the hospital emergency room with a sick friend and didn’t return home until the next morning. As far as she knew, he was home alone at the time.”

“And the neighbors?” Abe asked as they rounded the corner of the house and ended up at the front door again.

The attorney shrugged and gestured toward the fences on either side of the yard. “They didn’t even recognize his name. As long as he mowed his lawn on time and didn’t play loud music after ten, they couldn’t care less what happened next door.”

Inside the place looked much as it had been left on the night of the murder. There were still dirty dishes in the sink, bills on the dining room table, and a pervasive, lingering aroma that met them at the door.

Abe sniffed the air and asked, “What is that, lemon?”

“Something citrus,” the District Attorney agreed, their voice muffled by the handkerchief they had pressed to their face. “We had to open every window in the house to vent it out when we first came in. Some kind of essential oil poured out over the carpet in the study, same thing at the other two victims’ houses. Wasn’t that in the reports Damien sent you?”

_“…Maybe,”_ Abe said, but didn’t stop long enough for them to comment on that. “What kind of werewolf drops a scent bomb behind them?”

“To cover their own smell maybe?” the District Attorney asked. “Can normal people, I don’t know, smell that kind of thing?”

“Wolves do have a distinct odor,” Abe admitted. “But it still feels like they went out of their way on this one.”

The District Attorney nodded in agreement but otherwise kept their mouth shut and hidden behind the handkerchief as they led him to the study, where the stains gave away what happened here. The lemony scent was stronger than ever here, and Abe felt his eyes water as he knelt down to get a closer look at the carpet and then at the walls and furniture.

At first glance there was nothing to indicate a werewolf had been here, especially not one of the size they had seen signs of back at the park, but eventually Abe called out for the District Attorney to look as he pointed at the scratches in the carpet where claws had dug in and cut the material.

“Our perp can try and hide their trail all they want, but I’ll still finger them in the end,” he declared, and suddenly the District Attorney had a new reason to hide their face behind the handkerchief.

The second victim was the owner of a real estate company who lived alone in a real old money place, all brick on the outside and polished wooden floors and arches inside. The smell of wood, tea tree or pine maybe, met them at the door but it wasn’t until they went into the sitting room that the scent reached heavy, choking levels. The District Attorney coughed and Abe gave them a helpful slap on the back while pressing his own cap over his nose.

“Take a walk if it’s that bad,” he suggested and they quickly disappeared into another corner of the house, leaving him to go around the room. He gave a grim smile at the tuft of fur found beneath the coffee table, the same shade and texture as the clump from the park this morning, and then went over the room again, this time looking for anything that might connect the woman here with the grocer.

“Hey, Partner!” he shouted as he walked out of the sitting room sometime later with a bundle of mail in hand. “Where are you at?”

“Kitchen,” they called, and he followed the sound of their voice to find them studying the fridge, or at least the pictures, magnets, and other personal odds and ends stuck to the outside of it. They were frowning at a business card with a worrying intensity and said aloud, “I wonder why she kept this. As far as I know, she and her company were well off financially. Why would she ever need a money lending company’s number?”

“Some people don’t know how to live within their means,” Abe said with a shrug. “Even someone who lives in a place like this. What does it matter if she did take out a loan?”

The District Attorney shook their head. “It’s the same place on the bills the first victim had lying around back at his house.”

“That’s not the only connection,” Abe said as he flourished the mail and laid it all out on the kitchen table. “Look, invitations that weren’t mailed yet, and a letter from the grocer.”

“These addresses, two of these are the other victims,” the District Attorney said as they slid the envelopes around. “These other two, Franklin, he’s on the board for the biggest bank in the city, and Garroway, she runs the theater downtown, a friend introduced us after his last play. What kind of party was she throwing to invite these four?”

“You said the third victim owns a construction company, right?” Abe asked.

“Yeah, they’ve managed to get most of the city contracts for a while now,” the District Attorney answered absentmindedly as they read through the letter from the grocer. Although it was more like a note, considering how short it was.

“And the grocer was moving up in the world too,” Abe mused. “Maybe they were helping each other out, making connections, that kind of thing?”

“’ _Have you heard from any others? We cannot be the only ones who want out of this, but even if we are, it is still two against one. If we stand together, he cannot take us all,_ ’” the District Attorney read aloud and turned the note over, but there was nothing more. “Abe, where did you find all of this? We went over that whole room, there’s no way we would have missed something with the first victim’s name on it.”

“You might have if it were hidden in a wall safe?” Abe said, giving an awkward smile.

“You have got to be kidding me.” The District Attorney stalked off to have a look and the hunter followed in time to see them swear at the portrait of the victim’s long since passed cat and the exposed safe behind it. “How did you even find this? How did you get it open?!”

“Oh, well the second one was easy, there’s a switch over on the fireplace I found when I accidentally knocked over that vase, or I mean, that was totally broken when I got here—”

The District Attorney put up a hand to stop him and then gave a massive sneeze that nearly made their whole body leave the ground. “N-Never mind, I really don’t want to know. Let’s just get out of here, before—”

They gave another sneeze into their elbow and then a weak sniffle as they followed Abe out of the house. They insisted on taking a break before going to the third victim’s house and Abe took that as an invitation to drag them into a nearby diner for some food.

“So, we’ve got five people all on the invite list for some get together of a hootenanny, and three of them have been bumped off. Are you sensing a pattern?”

Okay, and maybe a little case talk to go with lunch.

“Do you really think this is the best place to talk about this?” the District Attorney asked. Abe noted a touch of irritation in their voice even as they took a long, deep inhale of the steam rising up from their coffee. They had tried to negotiate for a peppermint brew like the one from the coffee shop but had to settle for the darkest roast the waiter could dig up.

“Feeling any better?” he asked and received a grunt in return. “How is it the scent bombs from the houses bothered you, but that god-awful peppermint concoction doesn’t?”

“It’s one thing to choose to have one smell override everything else for the next half hour, it’s another to have it beat you over the head like a street mugger,” they declared. “And yes, I can see the connection too.”

“The big question is if the last two are potential future victims, or if one of them is a killer making his or her way through the group.”

“Seriously, could you lower your voice?” They looked around, but the diner was fairly empty at this time of day. “And there’s the problem of our fourth victim, Mr. John Doe. That wasn’t Franklin or Garroway in the park, which is yet another way our killer’s broken out of his pattern. If it wasn’t for the matching fur and claws, I would think we had a copycat on our hands.”

“Exactly why we need to find out how he connects. How long will it take the local cops to ID the guy?”

Abe received the answer to that question when he and the District Attorney arrived at the home of the third victim, the owner of the construction company with all the right connections. His home was in the middle of the city and shared a lot with an office building where a sign declared the construction company was closed until further notice. Aside from the pedestrians on the sidewalk who only spared a glance and a few mutters at the police tape on the house’s door, no one seemed interested in yet another crime scene.

That is, until they started up the front walk to the house, at which point a woman called out to them.

“Are you with the police?”

Abe and the District Attorney turned to find a young woman standing on the sidewalk behind them, her chest heaving enough to suggest she had barreled across the street at the sight of them.

“We’re working with them, yes,” the District Attorney answered. “Can we help you with something?”

“You’re looking for the monster that killed Mr. Haywood, right? Is it the same thing that killed Marcus?” She saw that neither of them recognized the second name and said with a voice that trembled on the edge of tears, “ _Marcus_ , he worked for Haywood with the rest of us, the police said—They found him in the park this morning, they won’t tell us anything but I know it has to be—”

She broke into sobs at that point, her breath catching in desperate heaves as the tears failed to fall out fast enough.

Abe hesitated but the District Attorney was at her side in a moment, handkerchief in hand as they rested a hand on their shoulder.

“I’m sorry, the last we heard the police still didn’t know his name,” the District Attorney said. “Marcus. Were you two close?”

She started to give a noncommittal shrug but at another gasp for air she nodded furiously.

“I’m sorry,” the attorney said again, and Abe started to suspect that while they knew how to comfort someone, the actual words to say in a situation like this weren’t as quick to come.

Fortunately, he was here to help.

“Good, then you would know if he had any enemies. Anyone have a grudge against your friend, a reason to—” Abe stopped short when the District Attorney gave him a furious glare and mouthed a few words he pretended not to understand.

“N-no! No, Marcus got along with everybody, no one would ever…Why would someone do this? He’s never hurt anyone!”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Abe answered. “When’s the last time you saw him?”

“When…when they closed the company a couple of days ago, I think? We showed up to work at the same time, and there were police everywhere, and… A bunch of us, just spent the day together, trying to figure out what we were going to do now. His roommate called me this morning, asked if I’d seen him because he left the bar early last night but never went home, and I-I said he would turn up and we should just wait…”

She sucked in a large breath and pressed the handkerchief to her eyes, less to dab away the tears and more to block out the world around her that had already done enough damage.

“His roommate was the last person to see him?” the District Attorney asked.

“Him and the other guys at the bar, he said Marcus had been upset the last couple of days because, well, why wouldn’t he be and they tried to cheer him up, but he ducked out early saying he needed to take care of something. It was only a short walk to the bar, the park was in the opposite direction, it doesn’t _make any sense.”_

She lowered the handkerchief, her red eyes focusing on both of them as she said, “You have to find whoever did this, they can’t just—It’s not fair, Marcus didn’t deserve this!”

Abe looked her straight in the eye and said, “My partner and I are going to get to the bottom of this.”

It was the first time the District Attorney didn’t correct him on the “partner” thing, instead focusing on encouraging her and the roommate to make official statements with the police with as much detail as they could, telling her that anything could help find Marcus’s killer.

“And we will find them,” they added, the steel and determination in their voice an echo of Abe’s own. “I promise.”

Inside of the house, though, they quickly fell into their own thoughts as Abe paced around in search of clues. Their expression was difficult to read with one arm pressed against the lower half of their face to block out what smelled like an entire flower shop condensed and concentrated in the space of a single room, but their eyes strayed over everything from the sofa, still damp from the scent bomb, to the magazines on the end table, to the stains in the rug.

They gave a sound of disgust when Abe, on his hands and knees, pressed his nose close to the stains to get a better whiff and walked out of the room to check out the rest of the house.

Only to return less than a minute later with a sheet of paper in hand.

“What are the odds that at least three of our victims would all be dealing with the same loan company?” they asked, turning the page so Abe could see the letterhead above the polite reminder to one Mr. Haywood about his current rate of interest. “Honest John Loans. Never even heard of them before today and now the name’s showing up everywhere.”

“Well, as suspicious as a name like ‘Honest John’ is, it feels like a bad business practice to kill off the people who owe you money,” Abe pointed out. He had one arm shoved under the sofa as far as it would go, but for his effort he was only rewarded with a couple of dust bunnies and a penny.

They put the page down, their eyes lingering on the address even as they said, “That girl was right. Marcus’s death doesn’t make any sense.”

“We know he worked for one of the victims,” Abe said. He stood up and didn’t bother dusting himself off before stepping on the couch to get a better look at one of the paintings. “Maybe he knew more than he should have about what happened to his boss, why someone would want to kill him and his dinner party pals.”

“But there were days in between those two murders. Why would the murderer wait that long, if he or she knew Marcus might have known something? Something must have changed in those two days, either Marcus let something slip or the killer took that long just to happen to find him walking the street at night, which doesn’t feel right. His friends said he had been upset. Could he have confessed his suspicions to the wrong person? Or did he recognize the killer on the street and tried to run? But if it was a werewolf chasing him, there’s no way he would have been able to run that far into the park, unless…”

“Unless it was toying with him,” Abe answered. He jumped down from the couch cushions and looked the DA in the eye as he said, “Maybe it did know, and watched him for those two days, waiting until he was finally ready to break and tell someone. Then it shows up and he runs, only it’s steering him further and further from help until they’re all alone in the park together.”

He saw the way the District Attorney’s eyes wavered and looked away before he dropped a friendly hand on their shoulder. Ignoring their flinch at his touch, he added, “There are some messed up monsters out there, Partner, and not all of them have the fangs to give them away. Lucky for you, I’m on the case.”

The District Attorney ducked out from under his hand and took a swift step away. “ _We_ are on this case, and again, don’t call me ‘Partner.’ I have a name.”

“Got it, got it,” Abe muttered, but he was already back to looking for clues again.

“Franklin, Garroway, and ‘Honest’ John. It has to be one of them,” Abe declared as they walked out of the building later. Despite the lack of new clues in Haywood’s house, he sounded sure enough as he added, “Shouldn’t be too hard to find the wolf in sheep’s clothing, if you’ll excuse the expression.”

“I absolutely will not,” the District Attorney answered as they followed him down the steps. They paused on the sidewalk and glanced both ways, but the block appeared to be just as quiet as when they walked in. “I thought you threw out the loan guy as a suspect.”

“Everyone is a suspect until they’re cleared,” Abe said. He considered and then added, “Even then, not a guarantee of innocence.”

“So much for innocent until proven guilty,” the District Attorney muttered. They glanced at their watch and said, “You should get over to the police station. They’ll need an… _expert’s_ advice on how to keep themselves and others safe tonight, even with Damien’s curfew. I can take you there on my way to the office.”

“The office? What about the investigation?” Abe asked even as he fell into step.

“What do you think I’m going to be doing?” they asked. “I’m going to be pulling out all the information I can on these three. Franklin and Garroway are practically public figures, and if this John person is running a legal business there has to be records of it. If we’re going to be questioning them tomorrow, then I want to have all the facts I can in place going in.”

“How long are you planning to be doing all of that?” Abe asked.

The District Attorney shrugged. “As long as it takes. Pulling the public records shouldn’t take too long, I have a contact who can help with that if I get there before City Hall closes, and I have my own files going back at the office.”

“This sounds like a lot though,” Abe said, and the District Attorney shrugged modestly, still not getting his point. “There’s a curfew tonight, you can’t be walking home by yourself at who knows what hour.”

“Good thing I have a couch in the office.” They caught his stare and laughed. “Please, like it would be the first time. Don’t worry about me, Hunter. What about you? What are your plans for tonight?”

“Probably stake out our theaterbug Garroway’s house tonight in case any wolves come sniffing at the door,” Abe said idly. “Way I figure, there’s a fifty-fifty chance she’s one of the victims to be, and still good odds she’s our wolf. Either way, a strong chance I might use a silver bullet to end all this tonight and you can clean up the mess tomorrow.”

“Lovely.” They dropped the sarcasm to ask, “Why Garroway though?”

“Eh, I never trust these theater types. Spend half their lives pretending to be someone or somewhere else, and I never met an actor who wasn’t full enough of their self to think they could get away with murder.”

To his surprise, the District Attorney nodded along in agreement before they could stop their self.

“I’ll keep an eye out for anyone competent looking to keep an eye on the other one,” Abe offered. He realized that until now he had assumed without even thinking about it that the DA would be that other person, and it was now, with a flash of horror, that he pushed that thought far away. He couldn’t afford to lose another partner, especially not one so close to the guy paying for this whole endeavor.

With that in mind, he stopped the District Attorney outside of the police station and said, “Here, take this. Just in case.”

The District Attorney seemed momentarily surprised when he grabbed their hand and dropped a silver pendant in their palm, but then they pocketed the pendant quickly without even looking at it and gave him a muttered thanks before disappearing down the street.

He watched them walk away and felt his heart skip a beat when they disappeared into the crowd.

_It’s okay_ , he told himself. _You’re not going to lose this one_ , _not if you can bag that wolf tonight._

_Preferably before it takes a bite out of anyone else._


	3. Chapter 3

Keep his partner alive, and keep the wolf from taking a bite out of anyone else.

Such lofty goals kept him awake as he sat hidden inside a hotel across the street from Franklin’s house that night, careful to stay out of sight even as he peered down at the street below and watched everyone who came and went. He had planned on scoping out Garroway’s place like he told the DA he would, but he couldn’t complain too much.

It was a swank hotel, from the wide-open lobby with marble and glass everywhere to the room itself, with its massive king-sized bed, more space than he knew what to do with, and not even a hint of bedbugs, putting it miles above the normal flea-ridden motel room he called home. Of course, it helped that it was on the city’s dime, once he explained to the Mayor its prime location for keeping an eye on a potential victim and/or werewolf. This was the sort of place that demanded reservations months in advance probably, but one call from Damien put Abe in just the right room to have a view of the whole street along with Franklin’s place before he could correct him on who was supposed to be staking out which house.

He could only hope room service was included in that deal, as he reached out and, without taking his eyes off the street, forked another piece of lobster.

Only for it to hit the plate with a clatter when he saw something move in the alleyway, something canine.

Having scoped out the exits in advance, it took Abe seconds to dash down the service stairs and out a staff door, just in time to see the tail go around the corner at the far end of the alley. After a second of consideration, he went the other way, across the front of the house and to the alley on the other side, expecting at any second to see it coming around from the other direction.

Except he turned the corner first with no sign of the creature, heart hammering as he feared he had lost his only chance—

Only to stop short when the beam of his flashlight caught the wolf standing in the back alley that ran between the rows of high walls on either side, blocking the house’s view of the alley and the trash cans that waited here to be emptied in the morning.

The light washed out the wolf’s fur and caught its eyes as the pupils shrank to mere dots, and for a moment they stood there, frozen and staring at each other.

It wasn’t as big as Abe expected.

Even a regular wolf is huge, more than large enough to make mistaking it for any stray dog off the street laughable, but this one seemed to shrink in on itself, cowering away from the light even as one paw wasn’t touching the ground, held in such a way to suggest it was injured.

One large, spade-like paw that, in this light, could have just as easily made the prints he saw around that stiff this morning.

_It’s smart_ , he realized. _And a limp is easy enough to fake. It’s just trying to get your guard down long enough to rip out your throat._

A whine escaped from the canine’s throat as he raised his gun and the District Attorney’s words came back to him:

_“Don’t you think we need to put some effort into finding the culprit instead of shooting anything in the right shape?”_

And he hesitated.

A scream pierced the air and both he and the wolf looked before springing into action. The wolf took off running away from him, and despite the visible limp in one of its limbs it was still going more than fast enough that his shot missed in the dark, the silver bullet hitting one of the trashcans and the wall behind it instead.

He swore and took off running himself, in the direction of the scream.

In retrospect, he was lucky he didn’t get shot, running up on the small band of policemen gathered around a pair of near hysterical people, one of whom he recognized as the same young woman who tipped him and the DA off about the fourth victim’s identity. All three of the cops had their weapons drawn, but he could see the light reflecting off their guns shaking as they turned at the sound of his footsteps.

“Easy, easy,” he called ahead as he stepped into the light cast from the streetlight overhead, a broad circle in which the small group cowered directly in the center of. “Wait, aren’t you guys supposed to be keeping an eye on the theater gal’s house?”

They were, but they had ended up here, nearly an entire block away, when they spotted the young woman (Lenore, she volunteered eventually when it became apparent Abe never bothered to learn the name the first time around) and the young man she was with running hell for leather, absolutely hysterical. They followed suit, realizing that: one, this was clearly an emergency situation; and two, no one among them was stupid enough to actually split the group up no matter how they tried to work it out.

One officer freely admitted that, when they caught up with them only to hear they were being chased by a monster, they were ready to write both Lenore and the man off as just having spooked themselves walking home in the dark with all of the stories and rumors going around in their heads. Until they heard the growl, and saw the wolf for themselves.

“Never seen anything like it,” one of the other cops said with a shudder. “Those eyes, they didn’t belong on an animal like that, and you wouldn’t be looking far down to meet them if it were standing in front of you.”

“What happened, where did it go?” Abe asked, already turning his flashlight out toward the street as if it might still be there.

“It just…looked at us, for so long,” the young man with Lenore said. “Pacing all around, always staying out of the light but close enough we could see those eyes.”

“We all had our guns up,” the third cop added. “But it kept moving, and I thought, we only have so many silver bullets between the three of us, if I miss—”

“And that’s when the wolf growled,” another cop picked up when that one trailed off. “Like it knew what we were thinking and then all of a sudden it disappeared. There’s nothing but silence, and then the sound of it running straight at us, but we couldn’t tell where from.”

“I screamed,” the young man admitted. “God, I thought I was about to die, but then we heard a gunshot off in the distance and the wolf just…stopped. We couldn’t see or hear it anymore, but…”

But as Abe’s light went around the area, it was clear there were no wolves to be seen. It did catch the massive paw print left in the dirt near the edge of the sidewalk, and more than one person present shuddered at how close it had gotten.

“What were you two even doing out there?” Abe demanded, once he had accompanied the civilians to the police station and told the police to check in on Franklin and Garroway to make sure both were still kicking. “There’s a curfew! And you, you know what that thing did to your boyfriend!”

“Marcus wasn’t my boyfriend,” Lenore said, her voice tinged more with regret at the denial than anything else. “And we wouldn’t have left the apartment if we thought we were safe there, but that thing was at the back door and nearly had it caved in before we got out.”

It took some questioning, but Abe gradually gathered that the young man in question was Stephen, Marcus’s roommate and the one to last see him. After talking to the police earlier today, he and Lenore had decided to go through Marcus’s belongings to see if there was anything that might point to the identity of his murderer, Lenore confessing that she doubted she would be able to sleep tonight anyways and Stephen not wanting to do it alone. About two hours and several glasses of wine in, they heard something snuffling around outside, and it’s when Stephen looked out the window and saw the massive wolf outside that it started to force its way in. At that point they decided to take their chances on the street, hoping a neighbor might let them in and give them safety in more numbers.

“Did you find anything?” Abe asked, deciding not to point out that numbers would have meant little at that point. It took a lot to kill a werewolf, and he had seen one tear its way through an entire village in one night, leaving victims in the double digits behind.

“He’d taken some work stuff home with him, which we weren’t supposed to do,” Lenore admitted. “But he wouldn’t have been the only one to do that. There’s just so much to go through before the company can even start to break ground, between keeping up with building codes, applying for permits, accounting, just all the piles of paperwork and bureaucracy, and with all the new contracts from the city we’ve all been struggling to keep up.”

“Other than that, it was fairly normal stuff for Marcus,” Stephen said. “About the only thing he tried to hide was his journal, and there was nothing in there about—About anyone who might have had a grudge against the guy.”

He stopped and fell silent, sharing an embarrassed look with Lenore that suggested they had found plenty of other things in the journal, but Abe asked, “This work stuff, can me and my Part—er, the DA take a look at in the morning? Until then, you two stay here, got it?”

Neither were about to argue with him on either point, and Lenore said they would go back to the apartment as soon as it was safe to do so, Stephen adding in a glum voice that he would have to see how much damage was done anyways.

That was about the only lead to come out of the night. The rest of it was a complete wash, from the realization that between his own actions and the police, both Garroway and Franklin had been left completely unwatched for long enough that either one of them could have been killed or stepped out for a little wolf-walking of their own. Both were at home and answered the door when the cops came back, which meant both were now also aware their homes were being watched if they didn’t know already. There wasn’t even a murder to narrow down the list of suspects.

He supposed he should have been grateful for that last one, but Abe was still in a foul mood by the time he walked up to the mayor’s office that morning, steaming cup of coffee in hand and no patience at all for the swarm of press outside, no doubt mugging the Mayor with questions on his way in for the day. Abe stood at a distance, watching the frenzy with half-focused eyes as he thought back to the events of the last night and dreading when he would have to explain them to the Mayor and, possibly worse, his own partner.

He raised the cup to his mouth, but before that rich, steamy brew could even touch his lips someone jostled him, hard enough to send the cup splattering across the ground.

“Watch where you’re going!” he roared before realizing that it was the District Attorney standing next to him, shaking one hand before pulling out yet another handkerchief to get the burning hot coffee off.

“Apologies,” they said without a hint of remorse. “Can I make it up to you? It looks like Damien may be here a while, and he’s…generally not in a good mood immediately after talking to the press.”

“Shouldn’t you be up there with him, answering questions about the investigation?” he asked.

“All three of us will be in the center of that mob if they notice us,” they answered. “All the more reason to not let that happen. Let me pick you up a new coffee, and then I’ll show you the side entrance Damien should have used if he wasn’t nice enough to put up with all of that noise.”

Abe considered giving them a hard time about the coffee, maybe making enough noise that they would be spotted by the press to get back at the DA (and maybe to give his own name a bit of a boost; after all, he would be looking for more work once this case was through), but he saw that under the shade cast by the brim of the fedora they’d donned today, a fashion choice he was entirely behind, the District Attorney’s eyes were shot with red and shadowed by bags that suggested they had about as much sleep last night as he did.

“I guess I could let you do that,” Abe said before stooping down to pick up the wasted coffee cup and toss it in a nearby bin. The color of the coffee did look a little off on the ground, even though he had once again asked for black coffee. Maybe they would have a better brew this time around.

“This the same place?” they asked outside of the coffee shop.

“Yeah, I don’t know a lot of coffee joints around here yet,” Abe said and they nodded once before pushing open the door and walking straight up to the counter where a barista was wiping up a spill.

“Well, look who it is,” the barista said when he spotted them. “Here for your regular again already?”

“…Sure. And, let me guess, a black coffee, strongest brew you’ve got,” they said, glancing at Abe for confirmation before giving the barista a bill.

While they watched the barista make the coffees, Abe looked around and noted that it was still early enough that most of the morning commuters had apparently not set out yet in search of the drink to get them through the day.

“It must get busy around here in the morning,” he commented, if only to break the awkward silence as they waited. “I’m surprised you’ve only got two people working this early.”

“Two? I wish,” the barista said as he added what appeared to be at least three shots of peppermint flavoring to the attorney’s drink. “I’m the only one here until 11 because _someone_ had to call out _again_.”

Abe frowned. “What? But you’re not the guy who took my order a couple of minutes ago.”

“Uh, no, I think I’d remember seeing you again,” the barista answered, leaving Abe to wonder what that was supposed to mean. “A couple of minutes ago I was in the back because one of the boxes fell and spilled stirrers all over the floor, but I didn’t hear the bell ring for anyone coming in. Either way, there shouldn’t have been anyone else behind the counters.”

“I’ll be right back,” the District Attorney said, pausing at the door to look up at the bell in question with a frown before heading out.

“Look, if this is some kind of joke,” Abe started, but the barista just shook his head.

“Seriously, man, are you sure you have the right place? Because as far as I know this place isn’t haunted with any ghost baristas,” he answered, and then paused to look around before adding in a louder voice, “Because if there were, I’m sure they would have been pulling their weight before now. Right?”

He waited and then shrugged when no answer came before placing the two cups on the counter.

Abe wrinkled his nose at the scent of peppermint coming up from the other cup, and as if in response to his thought the District Attorney walked back in, straightening their collar and slightly out of breath as if they had been running.

“None of the other store owners nearby saw this other barista,” they said by way of explanation. “And there’s no sign of any random coffee servers hanging around.”

“Thanks for checking,” Abe said and handed them their coffee. They took a deep inhale, but he swore their eyes were on his cup before they relaxed. His mind went back to the spilled off-color coffee on the sidewalk and pried off the lid of his drink, but there didn’t appear to be anything unusual about the black tar of a liquid inside. “He could have laced my drink.”

“Excuse you,” the barista said. “I don’t add anything to anyone’s drink unless they’re paying for it.”

“Not you, the other guy,” Abe snapped and the barista rolled his eyes before going back to putting out the pastries for the coming rush. “Why else would someone go to all the trouble of pretending to work here? And how?”

He wasn’t concerned about the why. After all, this was hardly the first time someone had tried to do him in even just within the past month. And he hadn’t exactly been quiet about throwing around the three suspects’ names yesterday. But how could someone have known he would come here of all places, and at just the right time to miss the real barista?

“Maybe they were just that prepared.” The District Attorney only shrugged as they led the way toward the door, where they remembered to reach up and, with a bit of a stretch, pull the paper straw wrapper from around the bell’s clapper. It gave a cheery ring as they pulled the door open, but the sound didn’t cover their voice as they muttered, “And maybe they had some help of their own.”

Seeing Abe hesitate on his coffee, they took a sip of their own and said, “It’s fine, I watched him make them. Plus, I know that barista, he wouldn’t try anything like that.”

“I had a partner who said the same thing about his tailor, and I know how that turned out,” Abe muttered, but he took a sip of the coffee anyways.

He would need something to help him get through the meeting with the Mayor, who when they arrived was clearly straining to hold his tongue as he told him, again, how important it was to solve this case like Abe didn’t already know. Unlike yesterday’s meeting, the Mayor stood and paced around his office with nervous energy, the cane in his hands going back and forth like he didn’t know how to keep them still as he spoke.

“We’re doing everything we can, Damien,” the District Attorney said in an attempt to reassure him. “Our three suspects—”

“Are tangentially related, at best,” he snapped, before looking down at the ground as if ashamed by his outburst. “I’m sorry, but you know we need more than guesses. You know what’s at stake—What happened to your hand, my friend?”

The District Attorney glanced down at their palm and Abe had just a brief glimpse of a blistering burn on their palm before they turned it away from both men’s sight and said, “Spilled some coffee.”

Without waiting for either one to help, they wrapped their handkerchief around it, using their teeth to finish the knot.

“Anything else?” they asked, ignoring both of their expressions. “If not, Abe and I should get going.”

“No, I don’t think so,” the Mayor said, but his eyes were studying his attorney’s face with concern, and on their way out, Abe heard him add, “Take care. Please.”


	4. Chapter 4

“We should swing by the station first,” Abe said once they were outside. “Lenore should be back with those papers by now. Maybe they’ll mean something to you.”

“Possibly,” the District Attorney said. “Hopefully it can be more useful than what I found last night.”

“You couldn’t find anything to connect our five?” Abe asked.

“More like I found everything,” they answered. “Franklin’s bank served as the default mortgager for our real estate victim, who sold our grocer his new house, who made a large public donation to Garroway’s theatre last year, as did Haywood’s company, who was angling for a contract to build the bank’s new branch on the other side of the city, and so on. All perfectly legal, and nothing to hint at any kind of animosity between the five of them. As for ‘Honest’ John, his business is registered with the city and from the records when he sued the occasional client for defaulting on a loan, he has rates that are well below loan shark levels. Business seems to be booming, and he’s clearly not afraid to take someone to court if they don’t pay up.”

“So, we’ve got plenty of connections but no obvious motive,” Abe said. “Aside from our victims’ letter.”

“’If we stand together, he cannot take us all,’” the District Attorney quoted, word for word Abe was sure. What he wouldn’t do for a memory like that. “Which would lean toward Franklin or John.”

“Assuming they were suspecting the right person,” Abe said. “Even they didn’t sound sure if they could trust the others in their group. Could be our killer isn’t acting on their own.”

He thought again of that wolf in the alley. Maybe he should have mentioned it to the Mayor or to the District Attorney, but with the Mayor on edge he wasn’t about to admit he had a werewolf in his sights and missed. As for the DA, well they thought little enough of him as it was without giving them any more reason to doubt what he was capable of.

Still, there had clearly been two wolves out last night, one trying to get into Marcus’s apartment to attack his girl and his roommate at the same time the other was sniffing out Franklin’s place, maybe looking for a way to get in at yet another target.

He wondered which wolf was to blame when they arrived at the police station to find Lenore, apologetic and empty-handed.

“I swear it was there last night, but the folder with all of Marcus’s paperwork, it’s like it’s just gone,” she said. “Stephen and I went through the whole apartment, but we couldn’t find it anywhere. It’s a bright blue company folder, it’s hard to miss and I could have sworn I left it in his room, but we were so freaked out last night and ran out so fast…”

But it wasn’t the sort of thing you’d hold on to when you’re running for your life, not without a reason. If the werewolf had broken down the apartment door, literally anyone could have walked in at any point during the rest of the night and taken it.

“Would anyone have a reason to steal it?” the District Attorney asked, clearly thinking the same thing. “What kind of paperwork was in it?”

“I mean, I just flipped through it, but most of it was copies of receipts and spreadsheets. Marcus was in charge of balancing the budget at the end of every month, so sometimes he’d have to double check what we paid for this or that, but it’s not like company secrets or anything,” Lenore answered. “As far as we can tell nothing else is missing. I’m sorry, we’ll keep looking, but I thought you should know.”

“So that lead’s a total bust,” Abe muttered later, once they were back outside and walking to the first suspect’s house.

“Not entirely,” the District Attorney said. “It looks like you were right to ask about his papers, because _someone_ was interested enough to take them. That may be why your werewolf visited them last night and went to all the trouble of scaring them off. That’s another big deviation from the first three victims, and again because of Marcus. Or in this case, something he possessed.”

“He must have known something, or at least the werewolf thought he did.” Abe rubbed his chin as he walked, eyes darting up and down the street even as his thoughts circled around the idea. “The werewolf tries to get in as a wolf, no doubt trying to hide its identity, and rushes the door when it realizes the kids are inside to scare them out. It didn’t bother with killing them before they got to the cops, because they weren’t the target.”

Except it had still chased them, and circled the group last night with every apparent intention of killing them, at least according to the cops and the kids. Had it been considering disposing of all five of them then? Or had it just been playing with them, feeding off of their fear just as it had Marcus before the kill?

Abe shook himself a little to dispel that train of thought and continued, “Fat lot of good that does us, if it’s in the killer’s hands now.”

The District Attorney surprised him with a rare smile as they asked, “We’ll see about that. Tell me, how are you at bluffing?”

They went to ‘Honest’ John’s house first, on the assumption that after last night he would be the least likely to expect to start off his day with a few questions. It helped that he lived within a few blocks of the police station, but when they reached the front door they almost walked straight into the man himself on his way out.

Because they were still on the steps, both had to look up to see the face of the man who towered over them. Clean shaven and neat in his appearance, from his close-trimmed hair and tailored suit down to his shiny shoes, Abe would have guessed him to be the banker of the group. After a moment of surprise, the man slipped into an easy, practiced smile and asked, “Can I help you?”

“Name’s Abe, and right now all you need to know is I’m working for the city. This is—”

“Y/N,” John said, his smile growing wider when he saw their surprise. “The District Attorney. I’ve seen your face in the papers, of course. Can I say, I appreciate what you and our Mayor have been doing for the city so far?”

“You can say whatever you want,” they responded stiffly. “We have some questions for you, so if we could step inside…”

“I’m afraid I was just heading into work,” John said, stepping fully outside and shutting the door behind him as he did so. “Could we talk on the way there?”

“Look, we can talk in the middle of traffic as long as you answer our questions,” Abe said and the man nodded before turning to lock the door. While his back was to them, Abe shot the District Attorney a look, but their eyes were sizing up John, a frown tugging at the corner of their mouth until he turned around.

“Forgive me, my manners are lacking,” John said and he stuck a hand out in Abe’s direction. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Abe…?”

It was a salesman’s greeting, the hand turned to put his on top. Abe knew that trick, and in response he grasped the hand with both of his own.

“Lincoln.”

“Abe Lincoln,” John said, his left hand moving forward to touch Abe’s forearm so that now this handshake was far too friendly for Abe’s liking. A smile that didn’t reach his eyes, maybe even a laugh escaped as he added, “John Booth, at your service.”

The handshake showed no sign of stopping until the District Attorney made a sound at that, at which point John let go and turned to them.

“I think you two have done enough handshaking for all of us,” they said, firmly planting both hands in their pockets just in case and ignoring the hearty laugh from John at that. “Let’s skip straight to the point. Did you know Mr. Alex Haywood, of Haywood Construction?”

“If you’ve come to question me about him, then I can only suppose you already know he had taken out a loan with my company,” John answered. He gave a heavy sigh and said, “I’m afraid I didn’t know him well, but I was sad to hear of his passing, especially in such a…brutal manner.”

He stood there, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped, before he seemed to remember that he had been going somewhere. He gestured for them to walk alongside him, and with his long gait keeping him slightly ahead he began to lead them down the street.

“Yeah, I know you must be real sad about losing that loan,” Abe said.

“Not particularly. It wasn’t a large amount, and even then, there is a good chance his estate will cover the loss. No, I am more disturbed by the rumors going around concerning Alex’s death, especially with the Mayor’s sudden call for a curfew.” John’s eyes shifted to Abe, looking him up and down before adding to the District Attorney, “I suppose the rumors must be true, if the city is hiring hunters now.”

“Two other clients of yours have also been recently murdered,” the District Attorney said, ignoring his remarks. “It would seem you’ve been unlucky in your choice of loans, Mr. Booth.”

“Three respectable members of the community, who by all means should have been trustworthy debtors. It’s not the most pleasant coincidence,” John agreed. “I am more than aware how it looks, Y/N, but what reason would I have to harm the very people my livelihood depends on? To be honest, I was rather hoping to hear you had some answer of your own for why this keeps happening.”

The District Attorney looked away, but Abe saw how John studied their reaction, just as he had noticed how the man couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of his partner since they left the house, as though fascinated by the way they moved. Abe knew having himself and the District Attorney on either side of the man to flank him was the best way to keep an eye on him and put that much more pressure on the suspect, but at the moment he wanted nothing more than to insert himself between the two of them.

Instead, he cleared his throat and, when John glanced his way as if having forgotten he was even there, said, “We know exactly what we’re looking for, and that’s why we’re talking to you now. Isn’t that right, Par—er, Y/N?”

“…That’s correct,” they said, a new steel in their voice as they fixed John with an even, unblinking stare, heedless of where they were walking. “The night before last, an employee of Alex Haywood was murdered. We know that he had company records in his possession, and some of these records were more…questionable than others. As someone financially related to Haywood, you’ll understand why we wish to see any and everything you have related to his company.”

“Is that so?” John tried to keep up the same tone of speech, but Abe could feel the way he tensed. Then again, anyone would tense up if face to face with the District Attorney’s stare, that quiet blanket of seriousness loosely wrapped around a sharp wire that felt ready to snap and lash out at anyone foolish enough to trip it. “Then please, allow me to give you a copy of our records regarding Haywood. I’m afraid it’s not much, but if it can be of any help to you…”

_No one should be smiling like that right now_ , Abe thought as John unlocked his office door and let them in, _not at my_ — _Not at a time like this_.

Feeling guilty at even the cut-off thought that strayed across his mind, Abe turned his attention to the small, well-decorated office, and immediately almost knocked over a potted plant on one of the desks while John went to one of the locked filing cabinets and pulled out Haywood’s file, then the files for the other two victims when the District Attorney reminded him.

When John handed over the folder with the copies inside, his gaze lingered on the District Attorney’s face and he took a deep breath before smiling again and saying, “I look forward to seeing you again, Y/N.”

Their eyes met his for just a second, their brows narrowing as they pulled the folder out of his hand with a little more force than was necessary before walking out without another word. Abe couldn’t stop a proud smile at that as he turned to follow.

“The same goes for you, hunter. Feel free to come see me if there’s anything I can do to help you find your wolf.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again,” Abe said before shutting the door behind him, hoping that sounded better out loud than it did in his head as he walked away.

It took almost half a block to catch up and fall in step with the District Attorney, who seemed so caught up in their own thoughts and examining the contents of the folder that he doubted they even noticed his absence. He had to repeat himself two or three times before they finally looked up and asked, “What?”

“ _I said_ , that John guy was too ready to help us out. No one’s ever that helpful without a reason.”

“It could be because he knows there’s nothing incriminating in these documents,” they answered, looking down at the papers again. Despite their distraction, they managed to navigate a hole in the sidewalk and easily sidestepped a man and his dog standing on the corner, although Abe had to grab their elbow to keep them from walking straight out into traffic. “There’s nothing here that stands out on its own, unfortunately.”

“Then we keep digging,” Abe said. He looked around, trying to take stock of the city in daylight. “We’re near the banker’s house, right? If anyone would want to keep a record of his dealings…”

A butler answered the door at Mr. Franklin’s house and nearly shut it in Abe’s face before the District Attorney flashed some documents, at which point he, reluctantly, invited them into the sitting room. It was a neat trick, and as Abe paced around the room he thought to himself that if there were ever a next job for the city then he would have to ask for a badge of his own. Nothing too fancy, just with enough of a shine to make people think twice about questioning his presence long enough to find what he was looking for.

“Please do not touch that, it is a rare piece by Asteas himself,” came a rebuke from the doorway, catching Abe just as he started to reach out his hand.

“Really? It just looks like a vase,” Abe said, pulling his hand back all the same. “Not even a good one, I’ve seen elementary school kids make better.”

“Be that as it may,” said the posh voice behind him, “It’s worth more than you would make in a lifetime, I’m sure.”

Well, now Abe wanted nothing more than to knock it off its stand. Resisting that urge, he turned to face the gentleman at the door. Well, gentleman in theory, although Mr. Franklin looked more like a reformed hippie pressed into wearing a suit, not helped by the fact he was wearing sandals. He was a stout man with a neatly trimmed beard and long hair pulled back into a bun, and he gave Abe an owlish stare behind a pair of ridiculously small glasses.

Franklin gave a heavy sigh. “Has there been another murder?”

Abe narrowed his eyes. “That’s an oddly specific question.”

“Not as odd as when a group of police officers knocked on my door at three in the morning to ask if I was dead, a werewolf, or both.”

Abe tried very hard not to look at the District Attorney for fear of seeing how they reacted to that. Instead, he said, “Well, at least we can rule out one of those options for now. Where were you and what were you doing last night?”

“In bed, and sleeping. Well, until the knocking started,” the banker answered, but he took a hasty step back when Abe crossed the room and encroached on his personal space.

“Oh, really?” Abe asked. “Then care to explain why I saw a werewolf sniffing around outside your house last night? Because it seemed real interested in you.”

The District Attorney made a noise at that, briefly reminding Abe that he had forgotten to share that little detail before now, but that thought went straight out the door when Franklin gave a choked sob and fell against the door frame as though no longer able to support himself.

“It’s coming for me,” he gasped out, one hand clutching his shirt so hard that at least one button had come undone or snapped straight off. “No, no, I told them, I told them I’d have nothing to do with it, why—”

He gave another choked sob and Abe rolled his eyes at the District Attorney to show what he thought of this act.

“Yeah, I’m sure you did, pal. Now why don’t you start naming names and we can actually get somewhere?”

“Uh, Abe…” The District Attorney started, but he gave them a shushing motion. He could handle this one.

The banker’s face turned red as he began to wheeze, his words stuttering and indecipherable.

“Come on, buddy, we don’t have all day,” Abe said and caught the banker as he started to slide to the ground.

Caught his sweating, shaking body as another gasping wheeze came out.

“Uh…Pal?” Abe asked as the District Attorney pushed past him, a single shout into the hall rousing the butler as they crossed over to the phone and began to dial.


	5. Chapter 5

Less than ten minutes later, Abe and the District Attorney stood back and watched as the paramedics rolled the banker out of his own home on a stretcher, an oxygen mask strapped across his face.

“I still think he could be faking it,” Abe said.

“Really, Abe? He could be faking a heart attack,” the District Attorney said, not even bothering to hide their disbelief. “The paramedics thought he was _dead_ when they first got here.”

“Which proves they can be wrong.” Abe turned to follow the District Attorney as they walked away, shaking their head. “What? He just happens to have a major medical emergency right when he’s about to spill the beans on who our murderer is? Who does that?”

“Someone under a lot of stress? Look around Abe. See this?” They pointed at a glimmer above the front door, and Abe slowly realized that there was a silver pattern worked into the door frame. It was decorative, sure, but now that the District Attorney pointed it out, he noticed that there was a similar lining on the window frames, and even the door knob appeared to be made of silver. “All new too. He clearly thought he might be the next victim, and knew what was coming for him. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days, which probably didn’t help.”

“This wouldn’t keep a werewolf out,” Abe said, running a finger over the decoration on one of the window frames. “It’s not like a salt circle for demons or iron for those people, just having silver around won’t actually hurt a were unless they touch it. This wolfsbane mixed in with the flowers might do something, if you were to accidentally chuck the whole vase into the fireplace.”

He snorted and turned around to find the District Attorney studying him, as closely as they could from the other side of the room.

“You were here last night,” they said.

There was no accusation in their tone, just an acknowledgement of the fact, but Abe still found himself speaking quickly to explain.

“Look, I know I said I would check out Garroway, but things just worked out so I was watching this place instead, and good thing it did or else we might have had another dead body on our hands.” Abe paused to consider but didn’t correct himself. After all, the paramedics seemed reasonably sure Franklin would be okay, if not in any state to answer questions for a while. “And maybe I should have mentioned the wolf, but I was a bit distracted, okay? Has nothing to do with how it got away, don’t ask about it. Okay, fine, I missed. No one can shoot straight all the time. There. Feel better?”

“I…” The District Attorney paused, a strange expression crossing their face as they tried and failed to parse just what the hunter was talking about. “I honestly don’t know what I was about to say anymore. I’m just going to look around before the butler remembers we’re here.”

Said butler had said something about calling the other members of the board and rushed away the moment the paramedics wheeled his boss out, but Abe suspected he would want to follow him to the hospital once that was done. The District Attorney was right, they didn’t have time to waste.

While they checked around downstairs, Abe eased his way up to the upper floor, aware of the butler’s anxious voice on the phone coming from one room while he checked out the other doors. There were a few pristine guest rooms and a library that looked to be all tomes large and thick enough to knock out a reader if the books weren’t boring enough to send them to sleep on their own. Franklin’s bedroom was an absolute pigsty, which Abe could respect, but the room next door not so much. It was yet another room for entertaining guests, in theory, with a pool table on one side and a drinks cabinet opposite a massive fireplace, but Abe’s eyes were drawn to the stuffed animals that littered every available surface, from the deer’s head above the fireplace to the actual bearskin thrown across the floor. There were lamps with what looked suspiciously like lamia snakeskin in the corners, and someone had even stuffed a griffin, or at least what they thought a griffin was supposed to look like.

Abe fought back a derisive laugh at the sight, knowing that he had sold more than a few pieces of his bounties to rubes like this one for ten or more times what they were really worth, so there was no telling how much he wasted on that pitiful taxidermy hoax. He turned to go but froze when he saw something out of place on one of the small tables that dotted the room.

“What do you think you’re doing up here?”

Abe jumped at the butler’s voice and fought the instinct to reach for his jacket and make sure his find was hidden from sight. “Looking for the bathroom.”

“Well you can find one at a corner store, I’m sure, but you and your associate should leave. Now.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Abe grumbled, allowing himself to be ushered down the stairs where the District Attorney was already waiting for them, hands thrust into their pockets and the picture of innocence like they hadn’t just rushed away from poking around at the sound of someone coming. “Come on, Y/N, we’ve got things to do.”

“More people to send to an early grave,” the butler muttered behind him.

“He’s not dead,” Abe said, ignoring the District Attorney’s pull on his arm. “Well, not yet anyways—”

“Not helping,” they murmured. “Abe, we should go, there’s nothing here.”

It was so hard to resist saying anything, so Abe yanked the door open and slammed it shut behind them as fast as possible just so he could answer, “That’s what you think.”

With a flourish, Abe revealed the folder he found upstairs, the Haywood logo prominent on the bright blue background.

“You’re kidding me,” the District Attorney said. “Where did you find this?”

“Where do you think?” Abe asked, jamming a thumb in the direction of the house as he handed the folder over, unable to resist a smug smile. “He just left it sitting out in his game room for anyone to find.”

“Abe, that’s…” The District Attorney sighed, pinching the bridge of their nose. “You can’t just steal evidence from someone’s home!”

“Well, considering he stole it first…”

“That’s not how this works! And we don’t know this is the same folder. Even if it was, why would he go to all the trouble of stealing it just to leave it out in the open?”

“It’s not like he expected someone to just waltz into his trophy room, is it?” Abe said, smug smile gone now that they were clearly not responding like they were supposed to. Couldn’t they just be happy for two seconds, or did admitting he had done something right bother them that much? “Who cares, the point is this is another connection between one of our dead guys and Mr. Convenient Heart Attack.”

“Which we won’t be able to use in court—”

“In court?! We are talking about a raving, murderous werewolf who’s already torn apart four people now!” Abe became very aware that the people on the street were staring now, at least those who weren’t ushering small children to walk faster and ignore the terrifying man. He made the effort to lower his voice as he continued, “The only evidence I need is which of our suspects wears fur in the moonlight, if you catch my drift, and if playing along with this whole rounding up clues song and dance is how we get there, then fine. I wasn’t about to let that folder some kid died over sit around for the butler to tidy up his master’s mess for him.”

With that, he pressed the folder into the District Attorney’s chest and stomped away in no particular direction, being more focused on making a point than what happened next. He made it as far as the next corner before the District Attorney spoke up from behind him.

“You’ll want to turn left if you’re going to see Garroway. Or are you done with this whole ‘song and dance’ now?”

Abe stopped, if only because the traffic was too busy to cross without taking his life into his hands, and huffed into his collar, head turned down against the brisk wind picking up. Beside him there was the rustle of paper, and out of the corner of his eye he could see the District Attorney struggling to look through the folder without the contents blowing up and down the street.

“Maybe you could save that for later?” he asked.

“Maybe you could stay still for two seconds,” they answered, moving to stand so that his body blocked the wind enough for them to focus on the papers.

Abe scoffed again but didn’t move. In the following silence he became very aware of the District Attorney’s presence, close but not quite touching his back. He made a show of looking up at the sky, at the street, at his watch, but the moment somehow seemed so long and too short at the same time when the District Attorney moved, speaking as they did so.

“These are financial records for Haywood’s company, but I suppose only Marcus would know if they are the same records that he took home. Lenore could guess, but from what she said I suspect she didn’t have much time to look at them last night.”

“Anything useful?” Abe asked.

“Maybe, but I’ll have to take the time to go through them thoroughly later, and not standing on some random street corner,” the District Attorney answered. “The more pressing question is, what was this folder doing in Franklin’s home? These are internal records, not something you would hand over to a banker unless you’re trying to prove your business is solid enough for a loan, but Haywood wouldn’t need that, the company was winning contracts left and right, any bank in town would be happy to invest in them—”

They paused mid sentence and glanced at the records again, that thoughtful frown of theirs appearing just as it always did when they came across something that didn’t quite fit right.

“So why would Haywood go to ‘Honest’ John when he could get a better deal from one of the banks?”

“Maybe the company wasn’t doing as well as it looked from the outside,” Abe said. “Bit off more than they could chew and couldn’t spit or swallow.”

“…Ignoring that last part, you might be onto something.” The District Attorney looked in the folder again, their mouth moving silently as they went over the numbers.

Abe thought he could watch them all day, but no sooner had that thought crossed his mind than a new gust of wind hit him, somehow weaseling its way past every layer of clothing to send a fresh wave of goosebumps across his skin. An unwelcome reminder that summer was on its way out and the nights would soon be growing longer once more.

Speaking of, at this rate they would still be standing on this corner by the time evening fell.

“You said Garroway’s place was to the left?” Abe asked.

As he hoped, the District Attorney snapped out of their reverie and said, “Yes, yes it’s not far from here. You still think it’s worth going, or do you want to drop by the hospital to slap Franklin with a piece of silver?”

“Not saying we can’t do both,” Abe said and thought he saw a twinge of a smile on the attorney’s face before they turned away. “Besides, nothing wrong with being thorough.”

Especially not with loose ends hanging. It was a werewolf that had chased Lenore and the roommate out of the apartment last night, but even Abe found it hard to believe a werewolf would decorate their home with silver and wolfsbane, much less put a door knob on their very own front door that they couldn’t use. No, as much as he hated to admit it even in the privacy of his own mind, the District Attorney was right: Franklin was afraid, so certain that he would be the next victim he came close to beating the murderer to the punch.

So how did he come to have the folder? Was it an insurance policy of his own? Did he think it would help him any more than it had the poor clerk who had it last?


	6. Chapter 6

With these questions in mind, Abe and his District Attorney went to Garroway’s house, an older building in a still upscale neighborhood. The wiry, gray-haired woman met them at the door, her deep-set eyes knowing even as she feigned surprise at the sight of the DA and the hunter on her doorstep.

“Please, come in,” she said and ushered them into a living room, modest at first glance until you noticed the paintings on the walls were originals, the furniture of a quality that wore its age well while still being comfortable enough that Abe doubted he would be able to get back up again if he sat down.

Which is why he paced around the room before taking up a stand where he could see the faces of his partner and the theater owner. She tilted her head at his behavior but said nothing, as she no doubt dealt with stranger personalities on a weekly if not daily basis.

“While I don’t begrudge your visit, I had hoped to see you again at the theater, Y/N, not in my own home under these circumstances,” Garroway said, her eyes flickering toward the hunter.

“I don’t have much time for entertainment these days,” the District Attorney answered. “I suppose you’re aware of the recent string of murders in the city?”

“Yes, unfortunately. Alex Haywood was a firm supporter of the theater, as were the other victims. He had access to reserved seats for any show if he just asked, because there are so many shows we wouldn’t be able to put on without the help of donors like him.” Garroway sighed, her eyes dropping to her hands. “I’ll admit the news hit me hard. I haven’t been out in days, and my poor assistant has been run ragged between staying on top of things at the theater and keeping me updated. You know how some of our actors can be…temperamental.”

The District Attorney gave a nod but said, “Did your financial connections to Haywood ever extend beyond donations? After all, I know there were some talks of renovating the theater in the near future.”

“Oh, there’s always talks, but I’m afraid we hadn’t moved so far as to start looking at contractors. I admit Alex’s company would have been one of our considerations, although he may not have been able to make the time for us. The downside of booming business, I suppose.”

“I’m not sure ‘booming’ would be the right word,” the District Attorney answered. “Abe here and I recently came into possession of some financial documents that might suggest otherwise. Perhaps he spread himself a little thin?”

The District Attorney’s expression did not change, but Abe knew they had to be watching the old woman just as closely as he did. Maybe they were just as disappointed as he felt when she did not react at all to that news besides a little, curious, “Hm. Perhaps.”

“Do you know anything about how Haywood and the others died?” Abe asked, if only to get some kind of reaction out of the woman.

In turn, she fixed him with the same, even stare and said, “I know that it was murder, and after the police came by last night, I now know I am being watched. I would thank you for thinking of my safety, but you’re not with the police, are you? Just who are you, exactly?”

“Name’s Abe Lincoln, monster hunter,” Abe answered without hesitation. At this point he was used to ignoring the attorney’s reaction whenever he introduced himself, but the small turn at the corner of the theater owner’s lips put him on the defensive. “I’ve had years of experience with the worst this world has to offer, monsters that infest more than just the space under your bed or the back of your closet. I’ve dirtied my hands more times than I count stopping things your nightmares would turn and run at the sight of, so you should know that when I’m called in on a case this isn’t your run of the mill Jack the Ripper situation going on.”

“Oh, what a nice little speech. I should write that down,” Garroway said, a hint of a laugh in her voice. “You can’t seriously be suggesting that something supernatural is at work here. The city’s walls are warded, no troll or hag or what have you is going to come waltzing in. Not without raising some serious questions about how safe our people are, questions that shouldn’t be rooted on some _baseless_ rumors. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

“The Mayor saw fit to call in an expert,” they answered, no hint in their tone of voice or in their expression to give away what was going on behind those eyes. “And Franklin seemed convinced that he needed protection from something that was not human. Do you know why that might be?”

“Franklin? Bless his heart, he’s always been…susceptible to fits of fear and paranoia. Why, after our rendition of _Carmilla_ , he took it in his head to wear a bulb of garlic on a key chain next to a crucifix! A useful habit to have if you find yourself cooking often, I suppose, but I somehow doubt he had anything to fear vampire-wise. Surely you’re not basing your entire investigation on that?”

“We have evidence that a werewolf was at all four crime scenes,” Abe answered. “Believe me, I know the signs of a werewolf when I see them.”

There it was again. That little sound, a small “hm,” a tiny tone that suggested a laugh maybe, or just an ounce of disbelief at his words.

He knew he would regret it, but he couldn’t stop the word from slipping out. “What?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing. I just find it interesting that _of course_ a hunter is going to find evidence that some beast was at work here. After all, if it was just some bad egg at work, the city wouldn’t need _you_ , now would it?”

Abe bristled, but it was the District Attorney who spoke up first.

“I’ve seen the bodies. I’ve seen what this thing has done, what it’s capable of. This is more than just some ‘bad egg,’ Ms. Garroway.”

“Of course, I didn’t mean to sound disrespectful in that regard,” she answered with a placating gesture in the attorney’s direction. “But humans are capable of some truly terrible things on their own, as I’m sure you’re well aware, Y/N. I just fear that this hunter’s narrow-minded outlook will steer the investigation in the wrong direction entirely.”

Abe felt the heat rising to his face as he stepped forward, ready and willing to remind her that she was still a suspect in this whole thing, but he barely got the words, “Now look here—” out before there was a knock at the front door and the sound of it opening followed by a vaguely familiar voice calling out.

“Ms. Garroway? It’s Luke, I finished those errands for you this morning and I wanted to drop these off before I—”

The man stopped mid sentence when he spotted the three occupants of the living room, his surprise almost comparable to Abe’s own when he recognized the barista from the coffee shop—or rather, the fake from earlier.

The “barista” dropped the dry cleaning he had flung over one shoulder and turned to run, but Abe was faster and soon had him pinned to the wall of the hallway with his face pressed against the wood paneling and his visible eye rolling around in panic.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Garroway yelled, proving that she was more than capable of projecting her voice when she needed to. Her hand grabbed at Abe’s shoulder, but he ignored it as she said, “That is my assistant you’re manhandling! Let him go, right now!”

“Step back, please,” the District Attorney said behind her, and Abe felt the theater owner back off even as the attorney continued, “Abe, explain. Now.”

“This piece of scum was the one in the coffee shop this morning,” he said, pressing harder when Luke tried to struggle. “He’s the one who pretended to work there and gave me who knows what to drink.”

Abe lowered his voice and added into the assistant’s ear, “I don’t take kindly to poisoning. Lost a partner that way, and I can tell you it’s not a good way to go.”

“You can’t prove that was me,” the assistant said, his voice slurred thanks to the wall against his face. “I’ve never seen you before in my life! I’ve been running errands for Ms. Garroway all morning, I swear.”

“Abe, move aside,” the District Attorney said, their stare warning him not to argue. When the assistant started to move, they pressed one hand to the back of his head and said, “I didn’t say you could move. This is a serious accusation, one worth following up with the police. I’m going to search you now, do you understand?”

He muttered something under his breath, but with Abe ready and willing to step in if he resisted, the District Attorney was able to check inside the bags he had dropped alongside the dry cleaning before patting him down.

Only to stop at his waist, where they pulled a small bottle out of his pocket.

“Care to explain what’s in this?” they asked.

“Medicine,” he answered without hesitation. “I’ve had a lot of trouble sleeping lately, my doctor said it would help.”

“No label, so we’ll have to get someone to verify that,” the District Attorney said. They popped the lid off and made a small ‘tsk’-ing sound before saying, “I’m guessing your doctor didn’t suggest you use this all at once, as I can only imagine that would get you more than just one night of sleep.”

“That’s why I had it on me, so I wouldn’t forget to go to the pharmacy for a refill,” Luke answered.

“So I’m sure your doctor or your pharmacist would be willing to confirm that when I talk to them later,” the District Attorney said as they slipped the empty bottle into their pocket.

“That’s my medicine, you can’t just take it!” Luke turned to scowl at both of them. “I don’t even know what you two are talking about, and I’m not going to the police!”

“While I disagree wholeheartedly that Luke had anything to do with this nonsense,” Garroway said, giving Abe an evil stare, “If you insist on taking him in, I’m sure the police would be more than willing to look into this when they have _real_ matters to deal with. And I will make sure the press is aware of this behavior.”

“As I said, these are serious accusations,” the District Attorney answered with a terrible calm as they studied Garroway. “I will need a statement from you, concerning Luke’s duties as your assistant and what you know of his movements this morning.”

“…Of course,” Garroway said, and even the District Attorney seemed surprised by her sudden change of tone. “I will be more than happy to share the chores I had him complete, and I am sure that everyone from the dry cleaner to the shop assistant will confirm his whereabouts. I am sure you have this ‘tainted coffee’ on hand to compare against Luke’s medicine?”

The District Attorney hesitated and Abe thought of the empty cup he tossed into the bin, its contents long dried up on the sidewalk outside of the Mayor’s office.

A cruel smile began to form around Garroway’s mouth. “Oh. Well, what about witnesses? You say this happened in a coffee shop, there must have been someone around to see this charade.”

Abe cleared his throat, but neither answered.

_“I see_. Then this should be a short visit, more than enough time to make some calls afterward. Do lead, Y/N, Abe. Luke, I promise I won’t count this against your hours if you remembered to pick up the burgundy ribbon from the shop the costume designer’s been begging for.”

“Of course, ma’am, it’s in the bag with the rolls of fabric he ordered.”

“Lovely. Well? I don’t have all day here. There’s a new show starting in two weeks, we have things to do.”

The District Attorney clapped a hand on Luke’s shoulder and said, “As you wish.”

Except there was no way in hell Abe was about to let these two leave on their terms. He wasn’t sure what came over him, whether it was the tone of Garroway’s voice or the sneer on the face of the assistant when he caught his eye, but Abe’s mouth always had a tendency of running away and leaving the rest of him to catch up.

“Hold on a second there,” Abe said, his hand already digging in a pocket of his great coat, past the rummage sale worth of odds and ends that he found useful on the job until he came across something he picked up special for dealing with cases like this one. “I want those hands where I can see them.”

The District Attorney tensed at the sight of the silver handcuffs he pulled out of his pocket with a flourish, but before they could say anything, he had already slapped them on the wrists of the assistant.

Luke immediately screamed and dropped to the floor, his body curling in on the cuffs.

“Get those off!” Garroway screamed, almost matching the noise coming from the young man. She grabbed the collar of the stunned District Attorney and shook them when they failed to move. “Get them off him, right now!”

“Stop thrashing,” Abe growled, already trying to use his key to unlock the cuffs but struggling to get it in the lock. “I said, DON’T MOVE!”

The second the cuffs were off, Luke had both hands buried against his chest under his shaking arms and he sat there rocking back and forth on the ground, tears still streaming from his eyes.

“What did you do to him?” Garroway asked, her voice low and accusing as she moved between the two of them. “What was that?”

“Just silver,” Abe said, holding the handcuffs up for inspection. “Partner, call this in. We’re going to need more than just the two of us to bring him in.”

“I don’t…” The District Attorney stared at Luke and the hand cuffs, their expression confused.

“Did you hear me? Call the station or I’ll do it!” Abe didn’t mean for the command to come out as harsh as it did, or expect them to flinch away when he moved closer.

This wasn’t what he expected either, and as he went to the phone he could hear Garroway’s voice speaking to the District Attorney, the disbelief and condescension in her tone at the very hint of the accusation.

“You know this isn’t right, Y/N,” he could hear her say as he waited to be taken off hold long enough to explain what was going on. “I’ve known Luke for years, he’s not some _monster_. But of course, _he_ would find a werewolf just when it suits him. There’s no way Luke could have been involved in the murders, we have dozens of witnesses who will stand for him while you waste your time with this hunter.”

“…We have to check every lead, Ms. Garroway. I’m sure you will still be willing to accompany Luke to the station?”

“And after that to the press,” she said, but Abe couldn’t hear the rest of her words, only the biting tone as he told the officers what to bring.

Luke showed no signs of resisting when the dozen officers arrived and walked him out, but that was no guarantee he wouldn’t try something halfway to the station. Abe watched them walk him out to the vehicle with Garroway walking in step and evidently ready to ride in the back with him, yammering all the way about wanting to make sure nothing happened to her assistant like he wasn’t the most dangerous thing in this vehicle.

Halfway down the steps, the District Attorney stopped short, letting the rest of the group go ahead.

“You okay there?” Abe asked when he noticed they weren’t following. “Come on, you should be there for the questioning.”

“Something about this doesn’t feel right,” they said softly.

“Look, he wasn’t on our radar. It happens. But working for Garroway would explain how he knew the other victims, and he could have used her connections and said whatever he needed to get into each of the houses.”

“But why? What’s the motive?” they asked.

“What motive? He’s a werewolf, that’s all the motivation he needs!”

Yeah, he probably shouldn’t have shouted that in the middle of the street. Every single officer there shot him a dirty look while the whispers started in the crowd already gathered to watch the spectacle, but none of them gave him the stare that the District Attorney did before they turned to one of the officers in charge and began asking him about Franklin and sending a guard detail to the hospital to keep an eye on him.

“Y/N,” Abe said, and when they ignored him, “Partner, I—”

“Not your partner,” they interrupted, turning on him in an instant once the officer agreed. “You go with them, question Luke and Garroway, see what you can get out of them. I’m going to stay here and see what I can find, compare everything back at my office to see what we missed. Because we’ve missed something, Abe, and I want to know what that is before this goes any farther.”

“…Sure,” Abe said, biting back what he wanted to say. He understood the DA’s frustration, the need for all the little pieces to fit together nice and neat even if he didn’t agree with it. They would see soon enough that the case was over. They could all go home, once the wolf was taken care of.


	7. Chapter 7

At the station, they took Luke to a prepared room where wards had been written into the doors and the two-way mirror separating it from the observation room, all in silver paint that glowed in the fluorescent lighting overhead as Abe took a seat across the table from him. Garroway was forced to watch from the observation room, but he swore he could still hear her incessant harping even through the glass as the detective seated next to him started the questions.

“Name?”

“…Luke Red.” His voice was sullen, his eyes downcast and refusing to meet theirs.

“Occupation?”

“Personal assistant. To Lydelle Garroway.”

“Where were you on the night of the 7th?”

Abe sat there, restless as Luke answered each of the questions in turn, always seeming to have an alibi for each night of the murders, one that put him in the same place as a couple if not dozens of people, always doing some task or another for Garroway at the theater. Before long the detective had a widening list of names to double check with, and Abe could practically feel the smugness penetrating through the glass.

“Where were you this morning, 6am?” he asked.

“Getting dressed and ready for the day,” Luke answered, and for the first time his eyes darted up, meeting Abe’s as a flicker of a smile passed his face. “Took a shower, cooked some eggs, maybe made a cup of coffee or two.”

Abe felt the heat rising to his face again, but he kept his composure as he asked, “Can anyone confirm that?”

“Unfortunately, no. I’m afraid I’m not that lucky.”

“You reacted to the silver handcuffs I placed on you in Garroway’s house,” Abe said. “Why is that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

That was when Abe started to feel it all slip away.

“What? What do you mean?” Abe rose from his chair, leaning against the table as he said, “You started screaming the second I put them on you.”

“I don’t know, they hurt.”

“Show me your wrists, now,” Abe demanded, ignoring the detective’s warning as he reached across the table and dragged Luke’s arm into view.

There wasn’t a single mark on them.

“What is this?” the detective asked, shooting a look toward the mirror.

Luke on the other hand met Abe’s stare dead-on, that flicker of a smile returning. “…Maybe they were too tight.”

He agreed to a test, and flipped the silver coin in the air a couple of times before neatly catching it in the palm of his hand, his smile never wavering.

“I don’t understand,” Abe said later, after all the tests he could think of proved again and again that Luke was not a werewolf. “What does this mean?”

“It means you got the wrong guy,” the Chief of Police said. He sat back behind his desk and shook his head at Abe before continuing, “I can hold him until we get his alibis confirmed, but there’s no reason to keep him after that. Garroway already has her lawyer terrorizing the place, and they’ve all but guaranteed this entire incident will be all over the morning news.”

“But why did he fake it, back at the house?” Abe said. “There was no reason to do that, he knew what we would think—”

“Which is exactly what I’ve told the lawyer, but there’s only so far we can take a charge of reckless behavior due to outright stupidity. Believe me, I’ve tried.” The Chief sighed and continued, “Sorry, bud, but it’s not looking good for you. The Mayor’s going to have to do something to save face tomorrow once this is out, and you’re the easiest one to cut out of the investigation.”

“But there really is a werewolf out there killing people,” Abe protested, even though he knew deep down the Chief was right. “The city _needs_ a hunter to deal with this thing, before it gets any worse.”

“I know, and I agree,” was the answer that surprised Abe. “I saw the bodies, too. And we’ve taken as much of your advice into practice as possible, but without hard evidence…”

“The DA,” Abe said, but that spark of hope faded when he remembered the look they gave him before they left. “They were going to check out Garroway’s house and go over everything, maybe…”

“It’s about as much a shot as you’ve got,” the Chief agreed. “If anyone can dig up something out of nothing, it’s them. You’ll want to go soon though, curfew’s still in place.”

Despite the warning, Abe found himself straying back toward Luke’s cell. A regular one, since the threat he posed didn’t warrant the wards anymore. There was no one around, but Abe could hear Garroway’s voice coming from one of the rooms down the hall as he stopped to look in.

“Not supposed to talk to you without the lawyer present,” Luke said, but his smile invited Abe to say something, anything.

“Why fake it?” Abe asked. “We were already taking you in, how did you think that could possibly help?”

“Eh, makes you look like an idiot, so that seems like an upside,” Luke answered. He turned and laid down on the bench, arms crossed behind his head as he looked up at the graffiti on the ceiling. “But you seem like the type to waste time all on your own, which is why I guess you’re here.”

“You put something in my coffee this morning, I know it was you,” Abe said, to which the assistant shrugged. “Why?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, but again, you seem like the type to have a _lot_ of people looking to get you out of the way.”

Abe could not deny that, but he could ask, “You didn’t even know me, but you knew where to find me, _when_ to find me. That setup was too perfect, too well-timed. How?”

“People get lucky. Especially if they take a job from someone with a lot of detailed instructions. Too bad for all of us the one detail that turned out to be wrong was you actually drinking the coffee. Not that I would know anything about that.”

“Instructions from who? Garroway?”

“It’s ‘whom’, and of course not. Who do you think she is? She’s practically a paragon of virtue, can’t you hear her standing up for her poor, falsely accused underling right now? Let me tell you, she’d drop me like a hot rock if she had any reason to believe otherwise.”

Personal assistant, Abe thought. How much of Garroway’s business did he handle? That address they found at the victim’s house, maybe it was pointing to the wrong person.

But it didn’t change the fact that Luke wasn’t the werewolf. As deep in this as Abe suspected him to be, he wasn’t the killer. So, who was?

Luke laughed again when he saw the hunter’s expression out of the corner of his eye and said, “Like I said, wasting your precious, precious time.”

Abe borrowed a phone to call the District Attorney’s office, if only because he didn’t want a door slammed in his face, but when no one answered he gave up and tried the Mayor’s office instead.

“Y/N? Last I heard they were on their way to the hospital.” Damien sounded distracted, and Abe heard him ask for a minute before his voice was back on the line. “Abe, what the hell is going on? First, I hear Franklin is in the hospital after you give him a _literal_ heart attack, now word’s gotten out that there are werewolves in the city—”

Abe barely heard anything after the Mayor’s answer.

_Wasting time_ , Luke had said. Faking lycanthropy, that had to have been to throw off the investigation, but Luke must have known he couldn’t keep up the charade for long. There had to be a reason for that, right? He wanted to stall it, to keep Abe and the DA preoccupied, but not for long. Why? The closest they came to finding the killer’s identity was—

Franklin.

“Why did they go to the hospital?” Abe interrupted the Mayor.

“It would seem you failed to kill off an innocent civilian despite your best efforts,” the Mayor answered, sarcasm dripping heavily enough that even Abe noticed it. “The doctors believe he may wake up soon.”

All the more reason to put him in the grave as soon as possible, before he could share what he knew.

Abe swore into the phone.

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” the Mayor answered. “I should have listened to Y/N, you never belonged on this case. See me in the morning, Hunter, I—”

“Right, yeah, sure, glad to hear it,” Abe answered before hanging up on the sputtering man and bolting for the door. An officer tried to grab the sleeve of his jacket and warn him that curfew was coming on soon, but he pushed past him and shot out the door, running as fast as he could.

There were police at the hospital, thanks to the District Attorney, and Abe didn’t doubt for a second that they had already warned the cops to be on the lookout as soon as they put it together. The Mayor wasn’t the only one who should have listened to them. They had known there was something off about Luke, had insisted on finding all the answers. Maybe they already had an idea of who would be coming for Franklin tonight.

Abe imagined the murderer walking into the hospital just like any other visitor, there to visit a friend who had suddenly fallen ill. Walking up to Franklin’s room, or maybe changing right there in the middle of the visitor’s area, tearing through anyone and everything in its way to Franklin.

Including his partner.

Abe sped up on the empty streets, aware of the streetlights flickering into life overhead as the sun began its steady descent, as the wind picked up, as time ran out. Just a couple of blocks away from the hospital he stopped to catch his breath, wheezing and wishing he had learned for once in his life how to pace himself when it really counted.

And he felt the stare of someone watching him.

Abe slowly straightened up, continuing his exaggerated wheezing and trying to hide his quick look around. The street was empty, unnaturally so even for this time of the day thanks to the curfew, but the sensation of being watched only grew until the hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he turned to face the figure standing behind him.

“Abe!” John said with a friendly smile. “What a surprise. I didn’t expect to run into anyone out here at this hour.”

“What are you doing out here?” Abe asked, wishing the words weren’t accompanied by the harsh gasp for air. “There’s a curfew, you know that.”

“I was on my way to the hospital,” John said. “It looks like you were headed in the same direction. Nothing has happened to Y/N, has it?”

“No, they’re fine,” Abe said. He was already suspicious before, but now every alarm bell was ringing as the man stepped closer. Abe put a hand to his side as though holding a stitch and felt the comforting shape of his revolver under his coat. “Might have burned their hand this morning, I’m on my way to escort them back to the office. Can’t be too careful these days.”

“Too true,” John said, still smiling as his eyes flickered to follow the movement of Abe’s hand. “Perhaps we could walk there together?”

“Yeah, I’d like to keep my eye on you,” Abe said, adding as an afterthought, “For your protection, of course.”

“…Of course.”

John fell into step beside Abe, his posture loose, relaxed compared to the hunter, who felt like a spring held tight and ready to lash out at the slightest reason.

“Something wrong with you?” Abe asked.

“Pardon?”

“You’re going to the hospital, right?”

“No, I'm merely wishing to visit an acquaintance of mine.”

“And I guess it just couldn’t wait until morning,” Abe muttered.

“There's no guarantee he will make it through the night,” John said, his tone unchanging. “I thought I should go and see him myself.”

Abe knew he might be walking next to not just a werewolf, but a confirmed killer on his way to meet another victim. It was a less than pleasant feeling, especially with no one else around and no guarantee that anyone in the neighboring houses would open the door to him if he called for help. Even if they did it might just sign their own ticket to meet the Grim Reaper. There was also the chance that he was completely wrong again, which just half an hour ago he wouldn’t have thought would be the better option.

He had to be sure before he did anything he couldn’t take back, and without becoming literally dead sure the hard way. Even now, it was hard not to smile when he could practically hear the District Attorney’s voice again:

_Tell me, how are you at bluffing?_

“Funny thing, one of our witnesses had to be taken to the hospital earlier today. Well, not ‘haha’ funny, but you get my drift. I get the feeling maybe you know him. Name Franklin ring a bell? Hippie banker type.”

“I’m not sure that’s a real type, but yes, I know of Franklin. What happened to him?”

“Seems like he got a little upset at the thought of a monster roaming around the city,” Abe said.

“You mean the werewolf,” John said.

“You knew I was looking for a werewolf,” Abe said.

“Well, the rumors were going around, but I think we can say the cat’s out of the bag—or maybe the wolf’s out of the cage? News travels so fast in this city.”

Except it wasn’t common knowledge when John made that comment to Abe this morning, just before he left the loan broker’s shop.

“So fast Franklin knew what was coming for him,” Abe said. But not who. He had called the werewolf an ‘it,’ not ‘him’ or ‘her.’ “He had tried to protect himself, seemed to know why it was coming for him.”

“A shame he didn’t get the chance to tell you anything,” John said.

“Except he did,” Abe said, realizing it was true. Sure, the banker had panicked, but part of that was claiming he didn’t want to be a part of ‘it’, whatever ‘it’ was. Abe had assumed he had tried to back out of whatever business the other victims were a part of, but now the victim’s letter crossed his mind, the unsent invitations. Someone wanted out and they were looking for others to join them—only for their group to be knocked down one by one. A coward like Franklin would never have willingly stood up to someone they were so terrified of. Not without a backup plan.

He had the Haywood papers, stolen from Marcus’s apartment after the werewolf ransacked it. What if the papers were just another security measure, like the silver wards on the door or the wolfsbane hidden around the house? But how would he have gotten his hands on them, without risking running into the werewolf?

Well, he could have gotten the help of someone who was used to running errands for other people, someone who turned right around and tipped the werewolf off before trying to distract the people in charge of the case long enough for their one witness to be taken care of.

It was a guess, a total shot in the dark, but Abe had acted on less before.

“I almost forgot. Luke wants you to know he tried to keep quiet, he really did.”

He saw it, the second John’s face gave him away before he could stop it. John opened his mouth as though to pretend otherwise, to act like he didn’t know what he was talking about, but then after a pause a harsh, humorless laugh escaped instead.

“You are a treat, aren’t you?” John let the laugh die away into silence, but he was still smiling even if it didn’t reach his eyes as he studied Abe. “I’ve never met someone as ridiculous and hardheaded as you, hunter. I’d almost think you were perceptive, if not for the fact you can’t seem to see what’s right in front of your eyes.”

“Oh, I know a murderer when I see one,” Abe snarled, reaching for his gun. “And I’m going to take care of you, right here, right now.”

“The worst part is, I was supposed to meet Y/N out here, not you,” John snarled back, and it was a real snarl, a feral sound that shouldn’t have come out of a human throat. “That’s two times she steered us wrong. But you know what they say: Never trust a seer.”

Abe aimed to shoot, but with a strength that even his build would not suggest, John picked him up by the collar and threw him into the alley with about as much effort as someone tossing out the trash, a pile of which Abe landed in with a groan.

“Oh, well. At least your corpse should be enough to distract the cops while I take care of the rat and that delicious little DA,” John said, each word becoming more distorted and difficult to make out as the shape of his mouth changed, from a sneer into a muzzle full of glistening white fangs, behind which his body contorted and broke into the shape of a massive wolf nearly as big as a horse, its fur practically glowing in the darkness like the eyes that stared hungrily at Abe.

The hunter pulled out his gun and managed to fire off one shot, but it went astray and he had no chance to fire a second before the wolf was on him, one paw crushing his wrist beneath its weight as the foaming jaws went for his throat. Abe could feel its breath on his skin just before the weight suddenly lifted.

His eyes shot open to see the massive wolf stumble away and turning to meet its attacker: a second wolf, visibly smaller and darker but standing its ground, hackles raised as it gave a menacing growl that sounded nothing like the whimper Abe heard from it the night before.

It wasn’t even half the size of John, but he kept his distance for a moment, ears back as he studied the newcomer that stood between him and the hunter. When he stepped forward the second wolf’s growl reached a new pitch, shoulders twisting up to increase its size as it failed to back down. With John’s attention diverted, Abe slowly reached for his gun but froze when the wolf’s eyes latched on to him again, the muzzle beneath parting into a wicked grin of a snarl.

Only for those eyes to flicker back toward the other wolf, and then downward. Abe followed the gaze in time to see that the other wolf’s stance was off. While all four paws were touching the ground, it was clearly not putting its full weight on one of its front legs, the same one he saw it limping on the night before.

The pause in between the first attack and that realization had to have been merely seconds, and then John went for his next attack. The other wolf leapt, just barely dodging the jaws that snapped at its injured leg and was on top of the larger wolf, snarling and tearing at anything in reach while John tried to shake it off before ramming into the nearest wall with a sickening sound from the smaller wolf. It slid to the ground, momentarily dazed before the larger wolf was on top of it, fangs lunging toward its exposed underbelly.

A crack split the air and the white wolf jerked to a stop before it could lay teeth to the other, golden eyes turning toward Abe just as he fired off a second round, and then a third.

One would have been enough, but it took restraint not to fire everything he had into the lumbering beast that took one, two steps toward him before crashing to the ground. Its body shook and shivered as it started to change back into human form, only to give out halfway, leaving John both recognizable and yet not.

The second wolf stood, or tried to. It took more than one attempt to get back onto its shaking limbs, and when it did it just stared at Abe, who looked back from the other side of his gun’s barrel.

He couldn’t miss this time. And he had two rounds left.

More than enough.

A second passed, and then another, but Abe’s finger was still on the trigger when he heard the sirens of the police coming closer, no doubt coming in response to the gunshots fired. The wolf’s ears flicked in their direction, but its eyes didn’t leave Abe’s face as he sighed and lowered his gun. He looked toward the flashing lights pulling up at the end of the alley.

But John wouldn’t be hurting anyone else, and at least one of his accomplices was either behind bars or on his way back to them.

More than enough, for now.

Abe sank against the wall behind him and looked back. As he expected, the other wolf was gone, but the new lights did help him to see something he hadn’t noticed before: a square, wrinkled piece of fabric with a familiar design.

Abe stared at it as one thought trickled through his mind:

_I am such an idiot._


	8. Epilogue

“Come in, the door’s open.”

Abe walked into the District Attorney’s office, already braced to defend himself for stopping by, but the attorney barely looked up from their paperwork. Multiple folders covered the surface of their desk, many of them with sticky notes on the outside ranking their importance from “Urgent” to “This guy again,” and Abe wondered if John’s file was there or already sorted away with the binders and boxes weighing down the shelves to his right.

“Hello, Abe,” they said, still without looking up. “I thought you would already be on your way out of the city, now that the werewolf has been taken care of.”

“First I had to stop by the Mayor’s office, make sure I got paid for my services,” Abe answered, taking his time to scan the room. There wasn’t much in the way of decorations or personal affects here, aside from a fake plant in the windowsill and a copy of the day’s newspaper tossed on the surface of a nearby low table, the front page of which was mostly taken up by articles about the werewolf, next to pictures of all four victims. The table rested in front of a couch which had a not quite folded right blanket tossed over its back. He wondered if they slept here again as he added, “Missed you last night, after…After everything.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the District Attorney look up, but by the time he turned his head their eyes were back on a police report.

“Franklin woke up last night, and since they weren’t letting anyone leave the hospital until morning just to be safe, I had plenty of time to talk to him,” they said. “He confessed to everything, working with the other victims, Luke, and John to create a nice little money laundering scheme, using their businesses and the bank to push it all back and forth. Garroway wasn’t involved, but after finding out how Luke had been using her name and her theater to his own advantage, she seems happy enough to provide what information she can. Mostly it’s just cleaning up all the loose ends, now that John’s gone.”

“Sorry you won’t be able to drag him into court,” Abe said.

“…He was a monster, in every sense of the word.” The District Attorney stared down at their desk, seemingly at nothing in particular before they took a deep, steadying breath and for the first time looked him in the eye. “You did what you had to do. Are you okay?”

“Pft, please, it takes more than that to stop me,” Abe said, his confidence hiding the way his bruised back ached when he tried to puff out his chest. “I’ll be fine, don’t you worry.”

“That’s good to hear.”

And with that, they turned back to their casework, and after almost a minute Abe realized they thought that was the end of the conversation. He cleared his throat and added, “There’s another reason I wanted to stop by, you know.”

“Oh, right, your pendant,” they said, gesturing toward the corner of their desk with the pen in their hand. “Thanks for that.”

Abe saw the silver pendant lying in front of a photograph of the District Attorney and the Mayor, one of the few truly personal items they had out. He also saw the burn on the palm of the attorney’s other hand that rested on top of a pile of papers, seemingly forgotten even though it had not healed at all since the last time he saw it.

Abe cursed himself as he palmed the pendant but said, “I’m sorry. About the burn.”

“It was just coffee.”

“Yeah, but I thought I’d drop this off before I head out. Witch gave it to me on one of my jobs, said it was good for treating burns. Thought it might help.”

“…Thank you,” they said, this time genuine as they glanced up at the bottle he set down in place of the pendant.

And then they froze, staring at the handkerchief neatly folded beneath the small bottle, the same one they used to cover their hand up yesterday.

The same one Abe found in the alley last night and buried deep in his pocket, just before the cops arrived.

Abe had seen the District Attorney express very few emotions, as though they guarded every thought, every stray feeling as if afraid what it might do to smile for once. But now, now he could clearly see the fear in their eyes as they stared at the handkerchief and then slowly looked at him.

He wondered if the shame showed in his as he watched the fear turn to a wary contemplation.

“The Mayor sounded pleased with how things turned out when I talked to him this morning,” Abe said. He walked back to the door, where he stopped to add, “Even suggested putting me on retainer, for the next time the city needs a hunter. Told him I’d think about it, but considering the only reason I found John was because of a certain District Attorney, and there’s no way I would have walked out of that alley last night on my own…Well, I’m not much for working alone.”

“Pity to the poor fool who gets stuck with that job,” they said. But when he looked back, it was a rare, genuine smile that they gave Abe, so dazzling that he fumbled with the doorknob before getting the door open.

“Maybe I’ll see you around, Y/N,” he said like that hadn’t just happened, but his face split into a great, goofy smile of his own when he heard the District Attorney’s reply before the door closed behind him.

“I hope so, Partner.”


End file.
